paint me a murderer
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: Wars leave everyone to suffer, regardless to the side they took. Just because they were on the side of the light doesn't mean that they didn't have to do some horrible things to win / A one shot collection on the ones who killed, tortured and controlled, and their escape from the long shadows left by the war :: 1 - Oliver, OliverKatie; 2 - Gideon; 3 - Blaise, Blaise/Parvati ::
1. child painted in blood

**For the If You Dare Challenge (522. Destroyed Childhood); the HP Potions Competition (Drink of Despair) and the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition (Horus)**

_For Emily (why the caged bird sings) in the Summer Fic Exchange_

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i.

he was young. too young.

children his age shouldn't have been burdened by the responsibilities of war. but when there was no other choice, it was children they needed to turn to.

ii.

he volunteered. everyone he knew was fighting, and he refused to be left behind.

once upon a time, he had taught children to play quidditch. it meant that he knew how to motivate people, and suddenly he was a radio sensation alongside the boy who had once commentated his quidditch matches.

iii.

commentating was one thing. actually fighting was another.

he watched people – children – die in front of him, tore apart by vicious creatures masquerading as humans.

maybe he could have handled that, but war didn't only leave the marks of the innocent dead on the world.

iv.

he saw the man raising his wand at the back of an eleven year old child and he just reacted. no overthinking it, no hesitation, no regret.

(he doubted he'd have done differently even if he had had time to think. his actions meant the boy got to live.)

but he had cast the worst of the worst spells, the greatest unforgiveable, in order to save that life, and even if the ministry and the rest of the world said that it was okay, that it was justified, it still haunted him.

v.

he tried to push everyone away. he wasn't the boy who had taught quidditch anymore, he was a _**killer**_.

she refused to be pushed away.

vi.

she was one of the people he had trained, so very long ago when it was still quidditch he was focussed on instead of the war. they had been friends, kept up communication even after he had left hogwarts. that was all they had ever been – friends.

he had never thought of her as more than that.

but then she decided that his new habit of pushing everyone away after the end of the war was unhealthy, and that it was her duty as his friend to stop it. so she visited him, each and every day.

sometimes she brought things to do with her, like muggle board games or a book she thought he might like. sometimes she forced him to go out with her, to diagon alley, or quidditch game or even a muggle movie. but most of the time, she was content to sit there with him and jabber about everything and nothing at all.

somewhere along the line, she became his primary mode of contact with the world, someone who was necessary to his survival.

so when, staring at her blabber about the other girls he had once upon a time trained in quidditch, he realised he had fallen in love with her, he wasn't really all that much surprised. but that still left him the question of how to deal with the feelings.

there was a large part of him that screamed at him to keep them quiet, to not say a word. but even though the war had changed nearly every piece of him, it hadn't been able to change the fact that he was, and always would be, a gryffindor. and the last thing that a gryffindor was was a coward.

so he gathered up every ounce of courage that he still possessed and the next time that she – katie – came over, he offered her both a rose and a heart. and she laughed, a delighted, happy sound that warmed his heart, and promised to go on a date with him if he agreed to actually take her out for it instead of organising something in his home.

and maybe they didn't kiss, or go much further than deciding on a place and a time, but that was okay with him.

katie bell had spent hours and days and weeks and months on him, helping him to recover from horrors he never thought he would be able to overcome, and oliver wood was more than happy to wait for her in turn.

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**I hope you guys liked it! As always, plaese don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)**


	2. i never meant for this to happen

**For Camp Potter (History - write about Gideon Prewett); the If You Dare Challenge (847. Beyond All Repair); the Character Diversity Bootcamp (11. Hogsmeade) and the Globetrotter Drabble Competition (London, United Kingdom)**

**Word Count: 549**

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Gideon sat down heavily on the couch, staring at his hands. It had been nearly half a day since the battle – he had only been let out of St Mungo's an hour ago – but he still couldn't believe what he had done.

At that moment, he was having difficulty in believing that he was actually on the side of the Light. Considering what he had just done, he was so much closer to a Death Eater now than Order member.

He could see every moment of the battle as though it was still happening in front of his eyes. All he had ever intended to do was stun and disarm, maybe use a few more serious spells if the situation called for it. He hadn't joined the Order to become _this_.

He could see Fabian in front of him, charging recklessly towards a faceless Death Eater. And he could see Evan Rosier making his way towards his brother, wand raised and mouth forming the words that Gideon knew would separate him from the person he loved more than any other in the world.

He hadn't thought twice about raising his wand. An _Expelliarmus_ or a _Petrificus Totalus_ would have done what was needed, but at that moment, looking at Rosier ready to kill his brother, all Gideon had wanted was to make him pay for thinking about hurting Fabian, to make him suffer the way he was willing to condemn Gideon to.

He could still see the spell flying towards Rosier. He was so young…Just eighteen, and…Gideon shivered at the thought. His spell had done its job; had hit its target. One moment, Rosier had been alive and sneering at Fabian's back, the next…the sickly green light had enveloped him completely. He had never known what had hit him.

Gideon could still see his face, stuck forever in that hate-filled expression.

He had joined the Order to protect the weak, not to become a _murderer_! How was he any different than the people he fought? How-

Pressure on the couch next to him finally broke him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw that during the time he had been lost in his thoughts, Fabian had returned home without his knowledge.

He was looking at Gideon with a painful, understanding expression. Before he could say anything, Fabian stared talking.

"It wasn't your fault, you know that right?"

"Of course it was!" Gideon exclaimed, letting out all of his self-hatred. "I didn't need to kill him, I could have stunned him and it would have done the same thing!"

"And he would have been among those who escape during the next prison breakout, free to kill more people. You might not see it that way, but you saved a lot of lives tonight, Gid," Fabian said, reacjing out to hold Gideon.

"I'm a _murderer_!" Gideon howled, struggling to escape his brothers' grip.

Fabian didn't say anything, just grabbed Gideon and pulled him in for a tight hug.

Gideon struggled for a while, before finally collapsing in his brother's arms, sobs wracking him as he let out all his grief at what he had been forced to do.

He hadn't accepted it and moved on just yet, but Fabian knew that now he was letting it all out, he would be.

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**I hope you guys liked it! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)  
**


	3. Haunted

**For the Travel Go Challenge (character: someone of asian decent - parvati; word: fog; theme: contrasts); the If You Dare Challenge (207. diverse); the Character Diversity Bootcamp (23. sunshine); the Pairing Set Bootcamp (30. blaiseparvati) and the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition (Hachiman)**

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You're a Slytherin and a Zabini.

You're not supposed to feel guilty about the people you've had to kill. After all, anyone who gets in your way is supposed to be expendable.

And yet, you wake up screaming most nights, faces embedded in your brain.

(A part of you wonders if that's the cost you have to pay for not supporting the Dark Lord like your friends did.)

The moment when the smoke and fog of the explosions you set you cleared and you saw the devastation your wand and words had caused is what replays in your mind, over and over.

You didn't know them when they died at your hands. You still don't know who some of them are, only that they fought for the wrong side.

The Ministry honoured you for your efforts, but the only thing you can wonder sometimes is if you broke the heart of one of your friends in that moment.

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She's the complete opposite of everything you are.

She a Gryffindor and a Patil, someone who doesn't have a spot of blood on her hands.

You were a killer in the war. She was a Healer.

You tear down and she builds and re-builds, and you can't help but wonder what she's even doing around someone like you, who's so obviously beneath her.

(And oh, isn't that a far cry from the words you spouted during your sixth year. It seems that they were all right, and pride really does come before the fall.)

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You know you should send her away, break her heart before she's truly given it over to someone as worthless as you.

But you're a weak coward, the complete antithesis of her, and you're just not strong enough to deprive yourself of her presence.

In the dark of the night, she whispers words of love and care to you, slowly and surely pulling you out of the shell you created for yourself.

She's the only one who can hold the nightmares at bay anymore, and even though you know you shouldn't do that to her, you find yourself unable to let go.

She loves you, and you love her.

She can do so much better, but you're a Zabini. And for all that you might be a weak fool, you're also a possessive one.

You're lost. It's something you should have known from the moment she asked you out for a drink.

There's no way you're ever going to let her go.

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So she holds your hand and pulls you from the darkness of your mind into the sunshine, and you let her.

The two of you are as diverse as diverse can be, but it doesn't matter to you anymore.

You're Blaise Zabini, and you get what you want. And what you want more than anything else is Parvati Patil.

(Parvati Zabini, tomorrow, you remind yourself. After all, you're a Slytherin. You were never taught to accept defeat or lose.)

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The dead haunt you, but you've got her.

It's enough.

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